


Frostbitten and Timid

by UnrealRomance



Series: FFXIV Modern Girl Soulmate AU [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, It's Ridiculous, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Soulmate AU, if it kills her, like a lot, she's gonna put a stop to it guys, the modern girl mc knows it's ridiculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-12-24 04:25:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21093359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrealRomance/pseuds/UnrealRomance
Summary: Aymeric and Estinien have always known they were soulmates...and they've always known there was a third.In this world, you wear your markings in the same place, and there's always the same symbols. A symbol for you, and a symbol for your soulmate. But what if there are more than two symbols?Tulip is about to find out. And be really annoyed at Ishgardian social custom as a result.





	1. Chapter 1

"What do you see?" one of the younger soldiers shouts over the howling wind.

"The Aetheric fluctuation was most assuredly in this area!" another shouts in reply. A mage. Someone who alerted camp Dragonhead to something that very well could be nothing.

And yet…

Aetheric fluctuations that large…could be Dragons, or something bigger. Something worse, loathe though I am to say it. And if Dragons have mastered a new means of weaponizing Aether…or something else disastrous…we need to know.

"Ser Estinien!" One of the scouts rushes back to our small formation, panicked. "There is a civilian!"

Every muscle in my body tenses and coils in anticipation of movement. "Where?"

"Sh-she…" he coughs and wrings his hands. "She is naked, ser. In the…snow. And…"

That is _definitely_ not the work of Dragons.

"Show me to her, and someone get some clothes from camp or something!" I shout into the howling wind, following the Scout as he goes.

"I've a spare set in my pack for emergencies!" the mage squeaks. Trying to be heard over the wind, hoarse and cracking voice showing the strain of their effort.

As they are a lalafell, let us hope the mysterious woman is as well.

When we come upon the place where she was last spotted, I see that the scout tucked a blanket around her body so the snow wouldn't completely entomb her without some protection.

It's already half-covered her body, though.

I wave everyone back and dig her out of the snow, pulling her up with an arm around her shoulders.

The blanket falls off her face and I barely manage to catch it at her chest.

And what I see there, on her sternum…stops me dead.

"Ser Estinien?" One of the scouts call me.

But all I can hear is the wild thumping of my own heart in my ears.

A knights' lance with a blue rose curled around it. And a red tulip twisted the other way.

The mage comes up next to me and my every instinct is on alert.

I cover her as well as I can, wrapping the blanket around her. "Your clothes will not fit. She is Hyur. I will have to take her back."

"We can have a runner sent from Camp-" they begin.

But I growl, "she needs to go to Ishgard, not Dragonhead."

"Whyever would you take her all that way? We've no idea who-" they keep talking but I've picked her up, and…now all that's left is to jump.

And I jump. I jump. Over and over. Until the distance between Ishgard and I is closed.

Over and over. Aiming directly for the building I need to find as soon as I get within the boundary of the walls of Ishgard.

It's been too long since I picked her up. But I can't take her anywhere else. I trust no one else.

She will be too cold like this…

When I alight on the doorstep of the manor I seek- I do not have a care for the sleeping servants or master of the house.

I kick the door open and rush inside. Finding the first available guest room, I gently dump her into the bed and pull the sheets and blankets from under her to tuck her in.

Once that is done I find the nearest bedwarmer and walk out of the guest room, intending to use the fire in the sitting room.

There are several servants in the hallway, at the entrance. Some of whom gasp to see me breaking and entering in the middle of the night.

I am only glad that I will not have to tend to this myself, but also am annoyed that they simply stand there and gawk.

No questions? Nothing?

Very well.

"On your feet and at attention, all of you. The lady of the manor is in residence," I inform them. "She is cold and in need of tending. And send for a Chirurgeon!"

Shoving the bedwarmer into one of their arms, I turn on my heel. Intent on finding my other blasted mate.

"The lady of- Ser Estinien!" they call after me.

I pay no mind. They will do as they are told. They have only ever deferred to me.

Daresay they would regardless of whom gave the order, myself or their Lord. A helpless woman in the manor, in need of tending? He surrounds himself with those who would jump at the chance to do so, servant or no.

Ah, _there_ you are.

"Estinien?" he blinks and loosens his grip on the sword in his hand.

"You let your guard down so easily," I tut. "Come, I've found something you need to see."

"Well, this _is_ curious…" he replies dryly. "Something so urgent it could not wait till the morn?"

"I found her," I say.

His brows bunch and he blinks in perplexity. "Her?"

"_Our mate_," I hiss. "Will you just come, you blasted fool?"

It is always dangerous to say these things aloud. But no one is near enough to hear. All the servants are either ensconced in their beds or tending to _her_.

He nearly drops the sword from his hand, but manages to catch it at the last moment. Snapping the jaw that had fallen open, shut.

Wordlessly, he marches after me as I turn on my heel and go.

After years of searching, and waiting and fighting- this is how we find our third? Lost in the snow?

Something about it doesn't seem right, or seems a bit _too_ right, but mine eyes are fixed on the door I left her behind.

All suspicion is cast to the wayside for now, but that does not mean I am not aware of how fortuitous our circumstances are.

How _incredibly_ fortuitous.

Aymeric de Borel, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, walks into the room of his most newly found mate with footsteps like wind upon a gossamer string.

Elegant and swift, but careful and silent.

The Servants stop in their fussing and move to the walls and corners of the room, bowing their heads in deference. Averting their eyes in respect of this moment.

His footsteps stop shy of the bed where she lies under a mound of blankets.

"Is she hurt?" his soft voice requests in the perfect silence. Breaking the hold it has on the room.

"Perhaps a bit frostbitten. I could not leave her at camp Dragonhead, as you well know. As soon as I spied that marking upon her breastbone, I knew she must be brought here." We both know why she could not be left alone.

There are not many who know the Lord Commander's mark would look this way, but enough that it's possible…

It's possible someone would know before we could control the spread of the information. And then what?

We have hidden our connection to each other for _years_, though some may have yet assumed with how close we have always been…

The servants have guessed, I know that much. But even in private, we have…always been careful. There has never been evidence. Never.

Mayhap it would not make a difference.

As he approaches her side, he puts aside his sword. Settles it easily on the covers at the foot of the bed which is…much, much larger than her.

Stops, near enough to see her face. The bright red tresses of her obviously dyed hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her head. Eyes closed in unconsciousness.

Her features are soft, delicate. Skin seemingly perfect…a few spots where the frost has dried it out, but…no scars or large blemishes.

Lashes naturally thick and dark.

She is perfect.

Aymeric looks to me after surveying her and I look away.

His pained and hopeful expression…it is too much to bear.

We always knew it would come to this. The fact that she has such a countenance- that she is such a lady in appearance…

So soft and supple and unmarred. It is like a sign that we were always right to wait.

That I was right to refuse him.

"Estinien?" he asks. Stepping after me once, I can hear.

But I am already at the doorway. "It is best if she is most acquainted with you _first_, do you not agree? You are her mate, after all."

'_They are both mine and I can have neither of them,_' a bitter voice hisses from deep within.

"She should meet you, too," he says. Uncertain.

The servants are still in the room.

"Mayhap when I return. As for now…I must go back to Dragonhead."

And then…I am outside the room containing both of the people in all the realm who might possibly ever love me. Care for me. Understand me.

Part of me is angry, at what I will never have.

But another part is simply glad I will not have to lose everything again.

The air outside is chilled, even moreso than before. Having been within the warm and welcoming walls of my mate's home and having had another in my arms…

The cold is biting. Now that I am bereft of both.


	2. Aymeric POV

I am a bit…at a loss.

Truly, I should have been at her side as she slumbered, but…as ever, duty called. And I had need to call upon another to greet and welcome her in my place.

Mayhap that was a mistake.

She sits across from my desk, pale and shaking with wide eyes. Looking at everything around her like she is afraid my drapes or my pen might leap upon her and tear out her throat.

Not entirely certain how to begin, I take a moment simply to survey her.

At some point, I suppose I doubted she would ever come. Or that she would be a 'she' at all. Truly a 'he' would have been acceptable if they were open to surrogates and raising children, but if they were not…

If she is not open to marriage, and children…I hope I will not have to find a wife or husband who can accommodate those needs outside of my mates.

Estinien is reticent where it concerns his affections and this newest…I would prefer to put my affections where I can most trust they will be returned if at all possible. Arranging a political marriage or trying to find someone to fit when I am nearly always working is…unattractive and untenable as a prospect.

But I _do_ want…marriage. Children. A home and a family. Even if these were not my obligations as head of house Borel, it…

It is something I have longed for and looked forward to, ever since my parents died.

Before then, even. The manor always felt so cold and empty if Estinien weren't over, training with me or discussing something.

I want my home to feel full. Lived-in. I want to feel like part of something again. Something more than Ishgard. Something…mine own.

My newest mate seems to calm with every moment of silence that passes, but sends me flickering glances as if afraid to look directly at me.

Should I at least attempt a reassurance now? Or shall I wait till she is more…settled?

If I wait too long, will my speaking startle her into tense alertness again?

I must try _something_.

So I smile as softly as I am able and point to the edge of the desk where a tea set has been laid out. "Tea?"

She twitches, eyelashes fluttering in surprise at the sound of my voice. But she stares at the teapot very fixedly.

It is almost as if she cannot look away, and is entirely unable to respond. Either verbally or otherwise.

I pour her a cup and leave it within her reach, but do not push her beyond that. "It is there if you want it, regardless."

A shudder this time. Eyes flickering closed.

"Lucia…perhaps you should return her to the guest rooms and provide her with what food and other amenities she might need and inform me of when she wishes to speak." I cannot give up, but I cannot push, either.

Lucia steps around my desk and nods, saluting. "I will see to it that she is set up with a full security rotation."

"Security!?" my mate blurts and looks panicked, though she is unmoving.

"For your safety. You are not a prisoner, I assure you," I speak softly. "Will you…will you at least tell me your name, before you go?"

Her lips twitch and her mouth seems to seal shut even as she struggles to speak. Her eyes watering with the effort.

Hands reaching up and grasping at her throat as if she can force the words out, manually.

"You needn't-"

"Tu-Tulip," she stutters.

And then her eyes become glazed and empty and…

I nod to Lucia, unnerved.

What could have so traumatized my mate that she is too frightened to speak?

Lucia carefully helps…Tulip, out of her seat. And then directs her out of my office.

Whilst she is showing her back to the guest room…I am contemplating my next course of action.

Something happened to her, that much is true. Knowing that my mate may have been harmed, or somehow has gone through something horrible enough to cause this behavior, makes me…uneasy. Unhappy.

I feel utterly powerless.

How is it that I can help her if I do not even know what it is that ails her? And how can I know if she does not tell me?

Estinien said there was some sort of Aetheric fluctuation. The mage at camp Dragonhead hasn't made any further reports. They are still investigating.

Estinien.

I want to see him. Need to be in his presence. He is always so steady and certain and still. It calms me to be near him.

But the earliest I will be able to do so is the day after tomorrow. I will have a few free hours in which I might travel to Dragonhead or…I could send him a message and have him attend me here.

Considering the nature of our discussion, perhaps it is best we speak somewhere private. Dragonhead may have it's private places, but I do not trust it as much as I would mine own office.

I have taken special precautions with it, so that my conversations would not be overheard easily.

Yes. I'll send a summons. We can discuss official business once I have told him of Tulip's…condition.

As much as we must stay distant and be kept apart…neither of us can leave the other completely. It is expected of Mates to be together, always. We are already…starved, of that. Deprived.

Estinien is unwilling to bridge the gap, but also unwilling to completely walk away from the chasm between us.

And so we stare at each other over this chasm. Longing for a bridge to simply appear, and fearing that it actually might. And what that may mean for us.

Lucia returns ere long. With a careful and guarded expression.

"How is she?" I cannot help but ask.

Her eyes close and her head dips before she will respond. "She seemed…more relaxed in isolation. But still…silent. And afraid." When she lifts her head, her eyes are placid.

"I see." It was unnerving for her also.

Lucia is enough of a calming presence that I can pull myself together for now.

I am low on time as it is. I would've only had a few spare minutes to speak with Tulip and now I find that they have been used up, simply acquainting myself with her.

Did I even introduce myself? No, I do not believe I did.

"Sir…" Lucia prompts. Hesitantly.

"I know," I reply.

Back to work. Away from my mate.

"Send a message to Estinien, won't you? I need to see him the day after tomorrow." When I will explain that our mate is…

Is there a proper word for this?

Withdrawn might suffice in polite or mixed company but for Estinien…should I simply allow them to meet and let him see for himself?

Or would she feel threatened?

"I will do so immediately, sir." Lucia bows her head and walks out of the room again.

And now I…must get to work. There are meetings to go to, papers to read and reports to write…

Perhaps she'll get better with time.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes…a while. For the house to become quiet and still enough that I can sneak out into the hallway without encountering anyone.

That bodyguard that Lucia said was going to be watching me is either asleep or entirely out of sight.

Considering the stealth skills in this game universe, I guess they could be standing right next to me and I would never know.

Well that's fine, as long as they don't pop out and jump-scare me.

I just need…to…BAKE…something.

So I start my exploration of the house. Going down hallways as silently as I can, looking into rooms where the door is ajar.

Mostly like, sitting room type places that have the door open. But one is a closet. They have different doors for closets, like it's supposed to signal what it is without a sign.

That's…helpful, I guess.

Finally, I find the kitchen. There's like, one candle in here, still burning. There's candles in sconces on the walls that are still burning, too.

Seems like a safety hazard but in a world of magic who knows what kinda safeguards they have here?

So I ignore my paranoia about the candles and start looking around for ingredients.

I have to find the whole ass pantry because there are no refrigerators. Of course.

After wrangling up all the ingredients, I manage to find bowls and cooking implements that I'm familiar with, so at least this part is the same.

Nothing else is.

The furniture, the decor- nothing is modern. Nothing is like home. It's…incredibly isolating.

Not to mention the fact that I've encountered exactly zero humans besides Lucia, here. And she's…not exactly comforting from my perspective.

Am I supposed to tell them all where I'm from? What will happen if I do? Am I dangerous? Am I like a Primal?

Or am I just a person who was pulled through? Like how G'raha pulls the Warrior of Light and their companions into the First?

I don't know and I don't know how I got _here_.

Last I remember, I was falling unconscious in some snow. I was barely awake for like, a handful of seconds before I was back under. And before that, I can only remember being at home, asleep in bed.

Aymeric de Fucking Borel. It had to be him. The most beautiful man I'd ever seen in my life.

I can't talk to pretty people. Especially not when I'm wigging from stress. I go partially non-verbal just going about my daily life!

Usually it isn't as bad as that, though. I can usually talk- I just really REALLY don't want to. But it was…it was like choking on my words. I…I _hated_ it.

The only other time I've ever felt like that-

I punch the counter a little and take a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, I take stock of my options.

I can use chocolate, or I can use fruit. I can make cookies or I can do…pastry-things. Not complicated pastries, though.

Doughnuts? No. No, I don't feel like Doughnuts.

Cookies are good. But I have no way to cut and color them the way I like- and doing it with a knife isn't as effective and precise with cookie dough when you're working from memory.

But also, pastries deform when they cook so…

Something simple? Maybe…

I reach for the blueberries, pausing when I think about wasting someone else's food on an experiment in the kitchen…

But Aymeric is like, loaded. He's not gonna miss a handful of blueberries and a couple of blackberries.

So I use them to make jam. And then I bake pastries and I drizzle it on top of them, cut them open and shovel it inside with a spoon- or cut them in half and coat each half with a different jam.

I keep working until every surface in the kitchen is covered with pastries coated in or filled with jam.

Not completely covered, but covered enough.

I grab one of the plates and leave for the guest room. Then pause on my way and double back to grab another.

Really don't want to leave the guest room today. I just…want to be alone to freak out in peace.

The servants might want in. I have to…I dunno, push a dresser against the door? So long as I open it when they ask me to for important reasons, I'd be fine, right?

Fuck, I don't know.

I just know that once I'm in the guest room, I close the door with a feeling of…relief- and I don't want that to go away.

So I push the dresser up in front of the door and I lay in bed- but then I hear a subtle knock on the door.

And I go rigid.

"My lady?" someone calls. "What would you like us to do with your pastries?"

Holy shit was someone watching me bake and waiting to take instruction or something and I just didn't notice?

"Ah…k..kee..keep them!" I shout frantically at the door.

It's easier to talk through a door, where you don't have to see how doubtlessly beautiful the other person is.

I've seen the servants, they're not…as heart-stoppingly gorgeous as Aymeric, but they're close.

"...you want the staff to have them, milady?" the voice on the other side of the door sounds so perplexed.

"Yeah?" I say, in a high-pitched, squeaky voice.

"Alright then," they say. "Enjoy your rest, milady!"

And then I just…sit there, waiting for the sign of footsteps- but I hear nothing.

Fuck. Elezen can hear better than me and they have silent footsteps. There's no way in hell I can sneak anywhere in this house.

I kinda knew that before, but now…

Groaning and wallowing in the stress of just being me- I pick up the pastries on my bedside table and devour them before moving onto the second plate.

God, I'm so hungry. I must not have eaten for the past day or so.

I have an attached bathroom so a quick trip to wash my hands and scrub my teeth with my fingers because I have no idea how to do Eorzean dental hygiene…and I'm ready for bed.

Or more likely for endless hours staring up at the ceiling while my brain spins in circles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, she's not really like, stuttering so much as... choking on her words. I'd write a stutter differently.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yet again I didn't know it was saturday till the day was almost over. Ugh.
> 
> Good news is, I have three weeks worth of backlog built up. So I will definitely be back next week and the week after that. And that means I have more time to finish more-- which means I am back on my roll, baby.

I took a day to let everything sink in before I removed the dresser from the door permanently.

Just needed some time without people coming in and out and trying to serve me food and start conversations.

Had to sneak out in the dead of night to get food, and when I got back I found everything untouched so I think the staff was respecting my space. Thank god.

Came to a sort of peace with what was happening.

Don't really have any idea what the hell's going on, but I'm here now and pretending that the world didn't just tilt on its axis a little for me isn't going to help.

In order to survive, one must adapt.

…but I still didn't think I was gonna be able to talk to Aymeric.

So I got a servant to show me the written language that corresponds with the language everyone is speaking. Is it English? Japanese? Some other language?

I can't tell because it seems like I'm speaking English…but then I'll catch the curl of a letter in my mouth that shouldn't be there?

I'm not sure what the sensation is, but I might not be speaking English at all.

The written language is understandable to me, but…again, it's really weirdly English-but-not-English. It's…beginning to freak me out a little.

But I practiced writing sentences and they came out alright, so…

I wrote Aymeric a letter. Telling him where I'm from and what possible dangers there could be to my existence here. Saying things about how lovely his home is and how I'm grateful he gave me time to recover.

Telling him I'd probably still not be able to talk, but blaming it on exhaustion and being freaked out rather than…how fucking pretty he is.

Then I…asked a few questions. One of which was about the new tattoo I found on my chest- in the space beneath my collarbones.

I describe it and ask what it is and where I got it. If they noticed whether it seemed new or not when they first brought me here- cause I know someone had to have seen it. I woke up in a silk shift or chemise or whatever the fuck you call it. I know one of the servants had to have like, dressed me up. Possibly changed me out of whatever I was wearing before.

And now, here I am…in his office again.

Except this time, it's not me who seems the most tongue-tied.

Aymeric is still staring at my letter, even as I sit across from him. Or at least I think it's my letter? From this angle, it's hard to tell.

One hand is holding the letter up, and the other is massaging one of his temples.

Fuck, is it just a bunch of gibberish to him? Am I unable to write in an understandable way for anyone but myself? Please god don't let that be it.

"Can-" I choke a little on the word and it startles him out of his reverie. "I-…" I go silent and sigh, dropping my head.

"I'm terribly sorry, Tulip, I…" He's blinking a little furiously when I glance up. Like he's waking up or something. "I have to say your tale is…very gripping."

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I hope to god that means he believes me.

"The fact that you come from a place without even the concept…" he mutters as he puts the letter down. "That you wouldn't know it for what it is…"

I frown and lift an eyebrow when he looks up at me.

He clears his throat. "It…the marking. On your chest."

Straightening up, I gesture for him to go on. Is it some kind of well-known symbol for something?

For some odd reason, he flushes and his whole body does this…little thing. Like his hands flutter a little and his head tilts and his shoulders move forward and then back. It's a nervous movement like he's preparing for something.

Please tell me it's not some kinda death mark.

"Eh-hem," he clears his throat. "Well…you see in this world…we have…a concept. One you do not…seem to recognize. It is represented by that mark upon your chest. I suppose, as you said in your letter- that because your people do not have magic…that may be the reason you do not know of its existence. Your people may simply not…have mates."

I blink a little. And then I tilt my head and wait for a further explanation. Because I had to have heard that wrong. What about the mark on my chest could possibly have to do with…

Oh god. Oh god, no.

"You see…everyone in this world, is…predestined to have a mate. Even those not given to romance or…" he clears his throat. "Other types of relationships…as there can indeed be more than one kind of mate. Friend-mates and lover-mates are the most common. But there are also companion-mates and rival-mates, as well as…enemy-mates. And other such things."

I'm dead. I have to be dead. Only way this could possibly be happening. I'm going through every stage of grief right this instant.

This isn't happening to me. How is this happening to me. Really? Seriously!?

A whole life spent wondering and wishing and hoping magic was real and that soulmates were a thing and now I'm _here_ in this other world, possibly dead and how is this a good thing!? There's no way in hell I'm going to actually _find_ this person, and even if I could- oh my god we'll have nothing in common.

We'll be made for each other and completely unable to relate to one another.

I would give anything for even a baseline understanding of what the culture is like where my Soulmate is. Please? Anything? The government, the people, the religion- whatever force in the universe that brought me here should have given me something! I'll literally do anything to make this not miserable for me!

Oh god, will I even like them? Will they even like me? We might be destined to hate each other in a way that's going to eclipse all other hatreds- or fuck we might only end up as friends. And while that's _fine_, I always kinda hoped for the _mate_ kind of soulmate.

No, no. This is fine. It's fine. I can…I can make it work! The only way I couldn't make it work would be if my soulmate ended up being like…fucking Zenos Yae Galvus or Emet-Selch or someone just like them. While they may be fascinating, they're definitely not anywhere near what I'd find acceptable for a significant other.

It could be literally anyone else, and I'd be able to make that work, I think. Please god, let me be able to make it work.

"Tulip?" Aymeric apparently has been trying to get my attention for a bit because he's suddenly kneeling next to my chair.

I jump and yelp, falling to the floor and almost knocking my head on his desk.

"Fury preserve, are you alright?" he's reaching out to me.

I flinch and his hand retracts like he touched something burning.

Wasn't expecting him to try and touch me. I don't…really get touched. By anyone. I don't go places where I could be touched. And if I am touched, it's a brush in a hallway or market or something. It's not a touch where a person holds onto me or helps me up.

I'm so unused to the sensation of touch from anyone now, I almost…kinda fear it.

"I…" I choke a little. The stress is getting to me again.

"It's alright. Breathe," he coaches me. "You're in no danger here."

Danger isn't the problem, but that is weirdly soothing to hear in his voice right now.

I gesture at him in charades. A gesture where I'm from that means writing. Basically scribbling on the air.

Aymeric's brows furrow for like a half a second before he gets a dawning look on his face and he stands a little to lean over his desk and fetch a piece of paper and a quill pen.

I stare at the quill and bite my lip.

The servants brought me something different before. It was like graphite chalk. Like a pre-pencil pencil. This is different.

I point at the pen and shake my head.

He turns to Lucia, "have one of the servants bring the writing implements they gave her for this letter."

It takes a few minutes for them to get the equipment from my room. By then I've managed to sit in my chair again, and scoot it up to the edge of Aymeric's desk to use it to write on.

He's on the other side, back in his seat when they bring in the pencil thingy.

"Ah, a Graphein." Aymeric notes.

I take the 'Graphein' and the paper and I start furiously scribbling.

_I'm sorry, I'm a little overwhelmed. Are you saying I might possibly have a soulmate in this universe? This isn't some mistake? This couldn't possibly be a tattoo that was put on me without my knowledge or something?_

Passing the paper over, I resist the urge to click my toes or heels against something.

He hums and tents his fingers after he's finished reading it. "Lucia, if you would not mind…"

She salutes as she steps forward, away from the wall. "I will ensure you have complete privacy in which to speak, Lord Commander."

And then she leaves the room and oh I am _apprehensive_.

"There is…well, there are…circumstances, of which you must be made aware." He begins. "The first is that…replicating a soulmark would be nigh impossible. The designs themselves are kept secret and the mark…it gives off a particular Aetheric resonance that is immediately discernible. I can have someone check for you, but I am fairly certain it is genuine."

Well. At least he told me I can have it verified if I want. He seems to think it's not necessary. Is he somehow able to tell? Is the Aymeric in this reality some kinda Archon or…maybe he has some kind of sensitivity that's born from his Knight training?

"And…your mates have already been identified," he says. "One found you on the mountain, and I…am the other."

Staring blankly at him doesn't afford me any further clarification. Or certainty. Or understanding.

My mouth flops open and then closes again.

Shakily, my hand rises, and points to him- and then to myself.

"Yes, we…" he clears his throat. "We have the same mark. In the same place. Estinien noticed it when he found you on the mountain and…well, as he has the same mark-"

"_Estinien_!?" I think I might've shrieked a little.

He blinked and flinched back a little in response. "I. Yes. Estinien. You said in your letter that you know of us. You know of him as well?"

I snap my fingers and point to the paper I gave him a minute ago. He passes it back over nervously.

_Are you telling me…that I have TWO SOULMATES, both of which I found before I even woke up here. And you don't think this sounds at all like a set-up or a trick?_

I feel like adding more punctuation just to give my hands something to do, or maybe writing it all again in all caps.

But I pass it over before I can give in to the urge.

His lips purse. "I do admit, the possibility had crossed my mind at least once. But as I said. Soulmarks are secret. Estinien and Mine, even more so. We have never revealed them to anyone, or revealed to anyone that we had matching marks. It is imperative that we…keep it secret. And so."

No one could've made the marks as a forgery because no one else has ever seen them.

I grab back the paper and scribble again.

_What about doctors? They see your whole body when you have physicals, don't they? Or when you're injured?_

"We use glamours, to hide them. Usually." He says. "Even when our armor is removed and our clothing cut away, it will not fall unless we fail to reapply it in time. When one of us was unconscious, we would renew it for the other. We have been…very careful."

Sighing explosively through my nose, because this is _ridiculous_! I get up and pace around the space behind my chair.

"I can see this is very difficult for you to…" he trails off when I start making gestures in the air and pulling at my hair. "Perhaps you require further clarification?"

I turn and point at him and then to me and draw a circle around where my mark is. "Ch…Check…" I gesture at him.

"You wish to verify it," he says. A pained look on his face. "Very well. I will send for an available mage at the first opportunity. But…until then. Let us assume it is genuine. Is there anything you would ask of myself or about our third that you would like to know?"

I walk over and grab the paper and scribble my answer.

_Right now if you keep trying to talk to me, I might have a meltdown right here in your office. I am gonna go back to my room and sleep for like forever and then I'll try to ask whatever I can think of when my brain isn't threatening to explode._

Handing the paper over to him, I turn on my heel and stride to the door.

"Ah, Tulip, wait-" He stands halfway from his seat when I stop to turn and look back at him. "Just know that…this manor is as much yours as it is mine. You needn't sneak to the kitchens in the dead of night. You may, have free run, as it were."

I turn and leave then, without saying anything- because that was a little too much for me and now I need a quiet, dark place where I can curl into a ball and be ALONE for a while.


	5. Estinien POV

I had not expected for Aymeric to call me back from Dragonhead so soon. Or at all.

They should have taken one look at each other, and forgotten all about me.

_She_ at least, has never met me. What use would she have for me if she had?

"Ser Estinien, just this way," the doorman lets me in. Shows me back into Aymeric's office. "You will have utmost privacy, sir- Lucia is seeing to it and I will keep the servants away. Whatever important matters you must discuss, you may discuss without fear."

I eye the servant as he leaves. Wondering if Aymeric wanted him to tell me that, or if he simply came upon the thought to do so himself. It isn't usual to inform guests they're being protected from eavesdroppers.

Then again, the staff has always been rather lax with me when it comes to proper etiquette. Good thing, as I have no patience for it.

Knowing Aymeric, there are also magical barriers around his office to keep others from eavesdropping. We've both been very careful not to discuss these sort of matters where others could hear.

But Aymeric is…methodical and precise about it. Whereas I am much…simpler.

I'd rather we simply not speak of it at all. There's nothing to overhear then. But Aymeric and his romantic ways…

Even before today, he'd wondered what she'd be like. If she'd be a suitable bride- or if _he'd_ be a suitable groom. If _they_ would like the same things he treasured. Hold Ishgard as dear as he always had.

Or if the bond was meant to be for rivals or enemies instead.

Twas not a good night when he considered that possibility.

"Aymeric, what have you called me for?" I open the door and speak as I cross the threshold.

He is sitting at his desk, but does not immediately take notice of my presence.

Staring down at his desk sightlessly, fingers woven together and pressed against his lips… he appears to be completely unaware of his surroundings.

Creeping toward him, I edge around his desk and then dart forward.

I'm pinned to a nearby wall before I can get off even a faux blow. Mayhap I could have reacted and deflected the hands that now pin me, but…well, what use would there be in a sparring match _indoors_.

He blinks and his eyes clear of the fogginess that had shrouded them. "Estinien? I pray you, _stop_ that."

The touch of his hands leaves me and I ignore the feeling of cold bereftness that follows.

"Twas only a test of your alertness. You pay too little attention to your surroundings, Aymeric," I chide him. "I couldst have lanced you when I walked in the door and you wouldst barely have had a moment to react."

He sighs, "you will excuse me for my preoccupation once you have met." Then he stands and motions me after him as he heads toward the door. "Trust me, my friend. You will understand."

When we leave, I see then why the servant chose to say something.

Tis not only Aymeric's office that hath been cut off- but the entire front end of the manor.

The room that I dropped her off in, how…strange.

Aymeric should have immediately insisted that she stay in one of the larger rooms. One of the guest rooms for visiting Noblemen who stay to talk business late into the night, perhaps.

They are…lush. Decadent. You would think he would want his soulmate in the most comfortable situation possible. Knowing Aymeric, that would have been the first thing he said…

But if he did not, then why?

'You will understand once you have met' he said. Understand what?

The door is before us before we've taken more than four steps.

He knocks. "Tulip?"

_Tulip_? That cannot possibly be her name. I've heard flower names before, but somehow it just doesn't seem right.

There's a startled movement inside. As if she just slightly fell off the bed and landed on her feet. "Ah, wh…what?"

"Would you mind if I introduced you to someone?" he asks, shoulders held tight.

"...who?" she asks, timid and quiet.

"Estinien is here, I thought you should meet in person," he replies.

There is a pause in which I hear her pace a little before walking to the door.

What does she have to be so skittish about?

"Ih…Is he in his…h…helmet?" she asks.

Aymeric spares me a glance, as if to check. "Aye?"

"...he…can come in…" she says. Uncertainly.

Aymeric sighs and steps back, waving me forward. "You heard our lady, she desires your company."

His smile is wan and there are signs in his posture that point to the tension I can see in his eyes.

So I step forward and try the door, which is unlocked. Then step inside and…pause. To take in the scene.

Tulip, as Aymeric seems to think her name is- is seated upon the floor. Surrounded by dozens of sheets of paper.

"Help me," she mewls pitifully.

I sigh and close the door, tromping over to crouch before her and squint down at the papers. All of them are addressed to Aymeric- some of them also to me, and all of them are crossed furiously out and…well, nearly every square ilm of space on the page has been taken up with frantic scribbling. As if she intended to keep trying until the page was totally unusable.

Then asked for another.

"What in Halone's name is all this?" I question. "Why are you writing letters and not merely speaking to us?"

She sighs and mutters something, but even with my hearing as strong as it is- I can only make out gibberish.

"Speak in words, woman," I grunt.

She snorts and shoves my shoulder. "Ass."

Ah and now we are getting somewhere. "I am not the one incapable of having a damned conversation."

"Well how do _you_ talk to him!?" she hisses. "I can barely look at him, it's like looking at the face of god!"

There's a slight crashing noise in the distance that I don't think she heard.

I can be certain that Aymeric heard what she said, though, and that is the…important bit.

As it is, I cannot contain my mirth. Laughing in a rolling fashion- because it sweeps out of me in waves and becomes renewed every time she gives me a sour look.

"Th-th…the face…of god!" I wheeze.

"Oh come off it, you know what I meant!" she wails quietly. "He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen and I have a hard time talking to his very pretty _servants,_ okay?"

That sends me off again and I am curled up in a ball on the floor ere long.

"Come on, Estiniennnn," she whines. "You're my soulmate, too, right? You have to help me."

That reminder sobers me far more quickly than anything else could have.

While this might be good news in one very particular way, it is also…terrible for us. If she is so intimidated by Aymeric that she cannot speak, they will never become closer and all our plans will have been for naught.

Clearing my throat, I push myself into an upright position. "I have no thought to how I can possibly help you. I have never had problems speaking with Aymeric…"

Though the handsome bastard is definitely at least good-looking enough to be compared to a deity, it has never stopped my tongue.

"You're wearing a…a helmet," she says. "I know you're as…as pretty as Aymeric…but I can't _see_ it…so…so it's easier…"

"I cannot be your go between," I reply instantly. "I am away more often than not, and you…you need to learn to speak to attractive people without helmets on." I am _fighting_ my mirth with all that I have.

'As pretty as Aymeric' pft.

"But I can't!" she wails. "I've _tried_, but my throat _chokes_ me!"

How does a throat choke a person?

Coughing and allowing the pain of my too-tightly clenched gauntlets to stifle my amusement…I think on this problem.

It seems to me that it lies in her perceptions but how do you make someone _not _perceive someone like _Aymeric_ as 'pretty as a god'?

Not possible, because it would otherwise be untrue. He _is_ that beautiful, the damned bastard.

"I suppose your only recourse would be to close your eyes when you talk to him, then," I reply.

She pouts at me. "Stop making fun of me. I can tell from your voice you still think this is funny."

"Aye tis the funniest thing that has ever happened," I reply. "Still, I've no other ideas to supply you with."

"If I close my eyes every time I talk to him, I'll look ridiculous," she replies. Still put out.

But able to speak very smoothly. Hm.

"Either that or get angry," I reply. "You're fairly irritated now and it seems to have loosened your tongue."

She stares at me for a few moments. "Are you telling me to get _mad_ at Aymeric 'the saint' de fucking Borel?"

I can't hold it in anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually see Estinien as a particularly mirthful kinda guy but if somebody slips on ice or somehow makes a fool of themselves verbally, I don't see him resisting the mirth for some reason. And this was particularly...that. lmao.


	6. Aymeric POV

I have never heard Estinien laugh so much.

It brought a smile to my face when I heard it. Though I was also attempting to furiously clean up the mess I'd made when Tulip-

Dropping my quill back into the inkwell, I cover my face with my hands. Leaning my elbows on the desk top, well away from the drying ink.

I do not think she knew I could hear her. Or mayhap did not care.

'Like looking into the face of god', what does that mean? I know it implies that she thinks I am…beautiful.

But there was something more to it. Why not simply compare me to something else beautiful? Why specifically a god?

And then I heard it.

'Aymeric the saint'.

Then…other words. That I care not to even think to myself.

Tulip has quite the fondness for…profanity.

That aside…she seems to have a certain vision of me in her mind.

I am some…intimidatingly godly figure to her.

Why? What could she have seen that had convinced her thus?

Mayhap I am a knight. Mayhap I am the Lord Commander. But I have never done anything that would make mine own people see me this way, let alone someone from another place- another world.

Pushing away from my desk, I decide to simply ask her.

And then pause when I reach my doorway, as I've no idea how to simply ask her in a way she could respond to.

Apparently my face causes her to choke on words she wishes to say.

Sighing, I lean in the doorway.

"Ser?" Lucia walks over to me from her usual position in my office, when she is not attending to other business. "Is something troubling you?"

I have never felt the need to stand on ceremony within my own home or with Lucia. But the reminder that I am not holding myself up as I would need to while performing my duties- is almost enough to straighten my spine.

"Tulip," I reply. Simply.

"Ah," she replies. "Have you made any progress?"

"Enough to know I shan't be making any more," I reply. "Or at least…not so long as I still show my face to her, I suppose. Would I look ridiculous wearing a helm?"

She has the most perplexed look on her face when I turn to ask her that. "A…helm, Ser?"

"Apparently the issue is my face," I reply. "I'm…"

I cannot say it aloud, it is too ridiculous.

Clearing my throat, I go on, "as long as she must see my face, she will be unable to speak."

Lucia eyes me skeptically. "Why not simply give the girl a blindfold, then?"

"A…no," I reply. "She would not be able to see _at all_, then."

"She would only need wear it when you speak with her, My Lord." Lucia is attempting to have patience with me. I appreciate the effort. "Otherwise I do not see a solution if your…face, is truly the problem."

Skeptical but supportive.

"I shall have to ask her if that would help, then," I reply. "But I do not want her to need it forever. I need…some way to change her view of me. So that looking at me is not…so intimidating."

Lucia snaps to attention. "Intimidating. Of course. Well…you are in full armor, My Lord."

I blink and then glance down at myself.

Of course I am. I am always in full armor. It's a very…understated set of armor. It looks very elegant and courtly while also seeming-

…_intimidating_ enough to let others know that I am well enough protected.

It is weak in places to particularly small, sharp blades- of course. Most armor for warriors is. To allow for flexibility. Movement.

…I suppose I needn't wear it in the house. Or…rather…not when I am not expecting guests.

Perhaps there is lounge wear I could find that wouldn't seem too inappropriate to wear about the house with an unattached woman present.

Something with hidden armor panels would be best.

"Lucia, would you fetch my manservant?" I ask while walking back to my desk. "I must needs put in an order to the tailor for something less…intimidating, to wear about the house."

"As you wish, Ser," she replies.

As for now…there is work to be done.

It is only hours upon hours later that I finish the daily allocated work and have enough energy to seek Tulip's company.

As it is, I end up meandering in the hallway for a short while before realizing she isn't there for me to fret over.

I hear footsteps and movement from further in the house.

When I think to check my timepiece on the wall, I see that it is past time that the servants are usually in bed.

But there are two of them on either side of the kitchen when I enter. Unseen by Tulip, hidden away in Alcoves. I hear their breathing and sense their presences as I suppose, only a knight can.

I believe they are attempting to avoid frightening her away, back to her room.

Tulip's nightly baking habits are the only reason she leaves her room regularly. T'would be a shame to cut the visit short.

And so I find my own alcove, not quite completely hidden, but enough that I can lean back into it to avoid her eyes.

But she pays no attention to her surroundings.

Her hands are coated with flour, and she spreads it along a rolling pin before rolling out the dough before her. Then…folds the dough, and rolls it out once more.

Certain recipes require more work, they are…fastidious and intricate.

If I were to place a guess, I would assume that Tulip was a Culinarian in her own world. But she has told me before, in her notes, that she was something of an artist. Perhaps this was her preferred art?

When she has sufficiently folded and rolled the dough to her satisfaction, she cuts it into squares and makes tarts by dropping delicious looking apple filling into the middle of the squares- then folds them over and pinches the ends to make a triangular tart.

She then cuts across the top three times and places it upon a baking sheet. Repeating the process over and over again.

Her movements are methodical, precise and borne of experience.

After placing the tarts in the oven, she pauses and drums her finger on the countertop before…speaking.

"Are you there?" she asks. In a very small, quavering voice.

"Aye, milady," one of the servants respond.

"You can have these, too," she says.

And promptly leaves- rushing past with her head down.

Ah yes. I had heard the Servants were taking her creations home to their families- but she did not want even one?

"We should keep one in reserve for her breakfast," one of them says as they converge on the kitchen.

"She cleaned her tools, again, barely anythin' to do here," the other replies.

"Mighty considerate for a Noble lady," the first observes.

"Dunno if she is, she certainly doesn't act like it," the other chatters.

I find my way out of the Alcove and down the hall away from them before they can sense my presence.

In full armor I may be, but I know how to move silently.

Mayhap I will come back tomorrow night, simply to watch Tulip bake whatever else she has a mind to make.

Will this be the only way to know her?

I hope I can bridge the gap between she and I…

Even if I couldst never do so betwixt myself and Estinien.


	7. Chapter 7

I managed to write out a whole request without freaking out about the contents of my letter.

So Aymeric and I are at…I have no idea where we are, actually.

Everything in Ishgard and around it…looks so different. Now that it's real.

Also, of course it'd have to be bigger and more intricate than the game could allow for. But I am still awed and dismayed by the size and complexity.

So Aymeric had to come with me. Or well, I guess he could've sent someone else with me to go see Estinien- but for some reason he insisted on going too.

…though from what he's told me it could be because it's just an excuse to see Estinien without having to admit to wanting to see him.

God, Ishgard is so fucked up.

Apparently, since I'm an outsider, technically even though I'm Aymeric's…well, even though that automatically makes me a citizen- people are gonna look down on him for it.

And also apparently- people tend to have only one soulmate. And the only people in history who've had more than one have been like… The Twelve.

Along with other historical and mythological figures.

So anyone with more than one not only becomes a figure of scorn because everyone would assume you'd think yourself above them- but they also become a target for all kinds of power-hungry people who are afraid of what your bonds represent.

So Aymeric and Estinien have spent their whole lives terrified to show their love for each other to the point that they deny it's even there-

And it IS there, I can assure myself of that, they start eye-fucking the INSTANT we get into the camp where Estinien is staying and he notices us across the way.

God, he even walks like a man painfully in love and forced to hide it. All closed off, but blooming like a flower the closer he gets to Aymeric, then closing off again.

"Lord Commander," he addresses formally.

I guess we _are_ very in public right now.

"Ser Estinien," Aymeric greets in return, his eyes doing that thing where they yearn silently at someone.

I know what it looks like from the way he looked at the Warrior of Light…

Damn, I not only have to compete with Estinien but also whoever the Warrior of Light is in this universe?

Well, maybe not compete, exactly. Keep up with? Yeah, that's a good way to put it.

I decided that if Aymeric is really serious about wanting a relationship with one of his soulmates and not the other for the public's sake- I should either agree to be that person and secretly get he and Estinien to admit their love for each other and get together in private…

Or I should refuse and insist that he and Estinien get together and have him ship me off to the first empty house I can afford on whatever salary I might be able to earn at any job available that I can do.

Aymeric isn't going to go for the second option because he's got a hero complex and tends to take responsibility for more than he can handle. I technically belong to him and vice versa- so he's not gonna be happy about 'shirking' his responsibility to me in that way.

So I just have to somehow become the best damn soulmate he could ever have in his life and then enable he and Estinien to see each other secretly for romantic rendezvous.

…all while secretly pining after both of them because I think the reason I'm part of this trio is for this exact reason. I'm meant to be the best friend who marries Aymeric someday for public relations to fawn over so that he and Estinien can be happy in the shadows.

I just wonder why fate is being so cruel to me. They couldn't have paired me up with literally anyone else in Eorzea who happened to just be a normal dude, walkin' around? A gal, a nonbinary individual, a man- I don't care as long as they're not already in love and actually attainable for me.

"We should…" Aymeric trails off and coughs to clear his throat a little. "Take this conversation somewhere private."

Estinien tenses up.

"Yeah it's…" I hurry to get something out. "…embarrassing to thank people in public."

His guard comes down a slight inch, I think.

Estinien is wayyy more invested in not letting anyone know about our relationship to each other than Aymeric.

Aymeric says he doesn't even like to talk about it. At all. _Ever_.

Which could mean that Estinien is angry at life for forcing him into this situation and tries to forget about it as hard as possible-

Or he's just of the opinion that if you don't talk about a secret, it can't get out.

"This way," he says and turns on his heel. Marching off at a snappy pace.

Aymeric puts his fingertips very lightly on my back- and I can't really feel them through the endless layers of clothing I have to wear to avoid freezing to death- but I _know_ they're there and it makes me weak-kneed and now I need to lean on something or I'm gonna fall over.

So, I lean on Aymeric.

I'm supposed to be trying to endear myself in public, at least, right? That'd be good for our public image or whatever. For people to see us being all soppy and affectionate?

God, I just wanna touch him. All the time. Even though I can still barely talk to the guy.

His arm goes around me automatically, but when I peek up at him through my hoods it seems like he's a little surprised.

Too much too soon?

Expression evening out, he notices me looking and smiles down at me, making my brain turn to mush and all my words dry up.

God dammit.

We eventually end up in an old shack where there's a pair of beds and it's toasty warm.

So toasty that I can take off like three layers and just leave on my undercoat with the hood and I'm perfectly comfortable.

"You didn't have to come here," Estinien says. Voice low. "I can come to you if it is ever necessary. A highly ranked officer taking the trouble to visit a lower ranked Dragoon with his soulmate in tow, _draws attention_."

"Well yeah but you saved my life," I pipe up, drawing my hood low over my eyes. "So wouldn't _not_ coming to thank you be even weirder?"

There's a slight pause.

"Fine, you have a point," he replies. "And I wager half the yard heard you say that. There's no need to stay any longer."

I step in front of him as he tries to walk to the door. "Not the only thing we need to talk about, though, is it?"

He bristles and hisses, "not here."

"Well, duh," I reply. "But if we're going to make plans to meet up somewhere, we should probably do it while everyone is expecting me to be profusely thanking you. But I doubt any of them expect it to take more than a few minutes- and they probably all know about your lack of social finesse so we need to figure out where and when to meet_, quickly_."

Scoffing, he backs up and crosses his arms. "My 'lack of social finesse'?"

"Asshole-itis is also an acceptable way to phrase it when not in polite company, I've heard," I reply. "You don't like people, they're going to know that. And as a result, our time is dwindling. So. Aymeric?"

I'm pretty sure my voice kinda upticked in pitch there, but he moves to stand beside us with one smooth movement.

"If we are to discuss what happens next, you _should_ be included," he says softly. Gazing at Estinien like he's going off to war and he's dying to confess his love before he possibly never sees him again.

God, it's making my teeth ache _and_ my heart hurt.

"It has nothing to do with me," he replies. Harsher but also soft in volume.

You can't really see his eyes under that helmet, but you can feel them. And I could tell they were eye-fucking before, from a distance. Now, I can tell they're like an inch away from _actually_ fucking and it's killing me because hello, other soulmate, trapped in the middle here.

Feeling inadequate and shut out of the loop of affection and attraction.

This is so isolating.

"Maybe, maybe not," I say. Trying to match their volume. "But I still have questions to ask both of you and I think I need to know all sides of this issue and everything about both of you and your relationship in public before I attempt speaking to people you both know."

His lips flatten in a line. "Fine. I will come to the manor."

"No way, too easy," I reply. "We need a location we can all get to, outside the house at different times of day where nobody will find us. Preferably somewhere we can tamper with the place, have Aymeric bring his…no-eavesdropper spell things."

"Why?" he asks with a frown. "What could we have to discuss that is more private than our association with each other?"

"How about the fact that you two made a decision without me?" I am determinedly turned away from both of them now, so I don't squeak and my voice is clear and I…can actually talk.

"The both of you apparently discussed what would happen to me, in _my_ life, before you even met me." I say lowly. "Where I'm from, women find that kind of thing so offensive we have entire books written about getting out of it and besting the people involved. And by 'besting' I mean 'ruining the lives of in the process of getting free'. I have a limited amount of choices here, but that doesn't mean I have no choices at all. As much as you keep trying to convince me of that."

There's a heavy, implication-laden silence as I feel them both take that in.

I can almost hear the moment Aymeric's wheels start turning in the right direction. "I-. _Oh_."

Estinien sighs and starts growling curses under his breath. "What other choices are there? You leave? For where? Where will you go when you're not even from this star? Or stay with _me_?" He says the last part incredulously.

"There's lots of options," I say to the wall. "Marrying Aymeric like he apparently wants is one of them. But _I_ don't like that idea- especially considering he doesn't even know or like me -because it takes not only my choices, but both of yours."

"We made our choices," Estinien argues.

"An uninformed choice isn't a choice," I argue back. "What happens when Aymeric and I get married, and he realizes he doesn't like me as more than a friend? When I tell him I can't have kids with him because I refuse to get pregnant because the idea of it freaks me out? What happens when he can't have legitimate heirs?"

I turn around to stare at the feet of both men, instead of looking at them.

"If Aymeric has to have a bunch of children out of wedlock just so someone can inherit the Borel Family name and all their stuff, isn't that gonna tank his reputation? And what if we _did_ adopt, like I'd prefer? What if the kids we adopt aren't genteel? What if people have a problem with them not being of Noble blood and deliberately set themselves against them? What if the kids can't handle that? What if they'd rather die? Or run away?"

I'm actually freaking _myself_ out right now.

Taking a few deep breaths, I wring my hands together. "And what if we _do_ like each other, love each other, at some point? What if it doesn't matter? What if it's not enough because one or both of us is constantly aware of our third and pining away over them for the rest of our lives? Are we doomed to be unhappy forever just because you two can't handle people knowing we're connected to each other for some damn reason? Your lives are dangerous. They always have been. Your status has never protected either of you. You protected yourselves."

Dropping my hands to grip and squeeze my robe, I finish with, "I just don't understand why you don't trust each other or yourselves enough to protect all three of us if worst comes to worst and people don't understand. I don't understand why the two of you didn't just decide to be together and leave me out of the equation, either. I need the thought processes explained to me. I need to know what my options are and what options WE have as a group. So explain it to me."

It's quiet in the room for a very long time after I'm done.

Estinien then starts to pace in an agitated fashion.

Aymeric turns toward him, I can see his feet move where I'm looking. "She…she's right. We never discussed any of this with her. We assumed it was the only way of going forward…and we forgot we were thinking of another person and not-"

He cuts himself off and I think I hear him shift around to look at me. His feet don't move, so it's probably over his shoulder.

"Tulip…" his voice is so aggrieved it makes me hate myself a little.

But if I'm gonna be forced to do the whole 'make them admit they love each other and get them together' thing…I need contingency plans for when they're both blissfully happy being together and I'm just…home. Alone. With no soulmate to comfort me.

God, I didn't even know soulmates could be a thing in reality before I got here and now my heart aches so _much_ just for want of one I can actually _keep_ that I-

…crap, I'm crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might end up skipping wednesday's update this time, as I feel like shit and I might have to use that backlog for next saturday and maybe the saturday after that. Dunno, we'll see. Just wanted to warn everyone.


	8. Chapter 8

Twas two days ago, my world was pulled out from under my feet.

And now the days have no meaning, and my listless energy is becoming…difficult to manage.

There are those who have begun to notice.

"We have heard tell you've an unmarried woman living with you, Ser Aymeric," a minor lord of a house with middling influence sees fit to accost me one morning. His wife accompanying behind him.

"Have you?" I ask tiredly. "Perhaps those who wag their tongues about others' shouldst be reminded that many a man has mistaken a stablehand for a thief in the night."

I am perhaps a bit too sharp. But I have not slept as much as I should, and I have not eaten as much as is wise.

"True, sir," my savior and dear friend Lord Edmont appears. "It is unwise to bandy about rumor as if it is fact when you have no basis of belief. Tell us, Aymeric. Where is this rumor coming from? Have you a guest?"

"I do, in fact," I reply. "You couldst say she is like family in a way, and I must needs find her a place to live."

"Was her home destroyed?" Edmont asks with all appropriate grimness. "Such gracious generousness you display, giving her succor in her hour of need…does she have a chaperone?"

"I assigned her guards and servants," I reply. "Truthfully we do not…often interact. Especially alone."

The only times Tulip speaks to me alone is when she wishes to speak about Estinien and our bond with him. And it does not happen with frequency.

"So she is accompanied at all times and has nowhere else to go, quite appropriate I would say," Edmont says. Nodding and tapping his cane. "Now, let these sour rumors desist, yes?"

The lord and lady take their leave, looking put off at having their fun ruined.

"Now…" Edmont beckons and I follow.

He takes me to an empty room down an empty hallway and I know before the door closes, what sort of conversation this will be.

Edmont may publicly support me, but if he believes something untoward is happening, he will certainly take me to task.

So I place the device on the door as it closes to keep prying ears from hearing and face the very stern older man with all the courage I have in me.

"Almost as family," he says. "Though tis quite interesting I have never heard of you having surviving female family members, Aymeric."

"Tis the…other sort of family," I reply. And then allow my eyes to travel to the Lord's hand. Where his soulmark is wrapped about his marriage finger.

He openly displays it because his soulmate is…dead. And it is now appropriate to do so.

Twould normally be unseemly to look, or stare. But Edmont glances down and then back up to me and sighs a long, tired sigh. "Oh my boy. No wonder you are so distracted and out of sorts. What's happened?"

And so I tell him. Though I tell him not of Estinien. I will never tell of Estinien until he wishes it.

But I tell him the ideas I had of my soulmate and what our lives would be like, and how Tulip felt I was forcing her into something she did not want. And how I know not how to give her the choices she desires.

"Ah, an independent woman," he says. With a twinkle in his eye. "Mark me Aymeric, this one will be the greatest love or greatest friend you have ever known. She will put you in your place when you need it, and she will support you when you stumble. I think the choices to be given are obvious and clear, my boy. You are too reluctant to let go to give them to her."

He is reproaching me, but gently. He knows how my heart has always yearned for companionship. How I have always looked forward to the day I wouldst find the one who held my mark.

"You are right," I reply. "But if she does not accept what I can give her, what am I to do? Simply let her go? In Ishgard? She will become destitute, tether-less, mistreated because she is not native to the area."

"I will provide you with an alternative to that, my boy," he replies. "You give that girl a choice, and you tell her she can leave and live on her own…or she can simply be inducted into house Fortemps."

"House Fortemps," I say with astonishment. "You…you wouldst make her your ward?"

"Aye, indeed," he replies. "Any woman so self-possessed will be interesting to get to know, I daresay. And were she to agree to marry you, our houses would become even closer than before. I see no lack of benefit. Even were she to decide not to join with you in marriage, she wouldst still link your house and mine in a certain way."

Ah, this again. Lord Fortemps has attempted to put me in this position before. He hath offered his own two eldest sons for marriage in the past.

Haurchefaunt is a dear friend but only a dear friend and I daresay he would resent being tied down when his heart years for adventure still.

And Artoirel…is beautiful, but stubborn, and dislikes me for some reason I have never been able to discover.

Not much, but enough that living together wouldst have been…a nightmare.

Of course in such unions, legitimate children can be had by surrogates. All else may be adopted as long as you have at least two children of your own blood.

'The heir and the spare' as Haurchefaunt would likely say.

So I did not turn down the offers out of a lack of desire to marry a man when I couldst have a woman to bear children…but I didst always hope that my children would have everyone in their family in a place where they wouldst not have to watch them be mistreated by others simply because their status was not high.

I do not wish to have surrogate children because their mother, the one who gives birth to them, will always be considered merely a surrogate. Aside from the fact that often, surrogates are also nannies…it is simply distasteful and hurtful to think of someone who birthed you as being beneath you in status.

My children shouldst not have to experience such things.

"I daresay Tulip would dislike being used that way," I reply instead. Apologetically. "She wouldst not see the benefit to both sides, only that again, she is a puppet or a tool for someone else to realize what they want most."

Edmont thinks on that, humming lowly. Eyes closing in concentration for but a moment before opening. "Give her a townhouse then, my boy."

"A…townhouse?" I ask.

"Yes, indeed. A home of her own. Put it in her name, give her the means to grow her own status and fortune. It seems as though she would prefer it," he says.

And I…stare at him in shock.

How in the world couldst I possibly have forgotten that possibility?

The law states that soulmates of Ishgardians are citizens by right. But it does not state that they must marry or even be involved with each other at all.

Tulip couldst have her own life. And by right of the law, she has access to a tenth of a percent of my estate without marriage.

That would be enough to buy her a townhouse, give her enough coin to care for herself for the forseeable future and…

Let her go.


	9. Estinien POV

The day of our meeting inches ever nearer.

Aymeric advised that it should not be too soon. Tulip refused to wait any longer than a few months.

I myself, just wanted the damned thing over with.

We chose what we wanted a very long time ago. I'm not going to change that now, simply because our third has decided it's not what _she _wants.

The tattoo of my blood in my body beats incessantly in my head- throbbing intensity growing worse and worse as I attempt to forge on through the snow.

"I think we should turn back!" One of the other Dragoons shouts. "We haven't sighted anything in hours! We should regroup in camp and come back here tomorrow, branch out further!"

My teeth grit and my spine stiffens, but there is aught I can do to dissuade the rest as they agree one after another.

They leap away, and soon I am alone.

As I always am. As I will always be. As I have e'er decided was my lot and my fate.

What is to stop me from walking away into the white, never to be seen again?

Ishgard. Aymeric. Our newly discovered third, and her infuriating ideas.

Why should I not leave them? Why should I not be free?

My body turns without my direction, to begin the long trudge back to camp. As I do not feel like leaping and cutting my time down at all.

I feel like being cold and miserable and _slow_.

When she first arrived, I felt a relief in my soul. Aymeric would be taken care of and I had no further need to worry for him.

Now it seems she is throwing all our carefully laid plans into the privy and I simply cannot stand it.

"Damned snow…" I huff and kick my feet forward harder. Our footprints back are almost entirely filled in again.

Ishgard is a beautiful place and a home like none other in its eccentricities and difficulties. But sometimes I curse the blasted snow and wish mine armor had a thicker padding.

The cold seeps into my body, ilm by ilm as I stomp my way back to camp.

Her face flashes before my mind's eye and I see again her brightly colored eyes and hair. Like ocean water and flame. A duality of nature represented within a single woman.

Where she is the sea and the flame, Aymeric is Onyx and Sapphire.

And I? I am nothing but a lowly dragoon, attempting to punish himself for the folly of another by pushing my way through thigh-depth snow!

Huffing irritably to myself, I crouch and spring toward my destination. It were only minutes, truly, but everyone in camp reacts as though I had been lagging behind for hours.

Fussing over me in the most cloying ways.

Eventually I must needs retreat from company again and take a bowl of soup out into the nearby wild and have my meal in silent contemplation.

Removing mine armor would be a great deal of effort, so I simply sit in a tree, on a branch that can hold my weight- and put my empty bowl in a hollow. Settling in with crossed arms.

Waiting either for sleep to claim me or for the cold to make my problems irrelevant.

Would that I could simply disappear into the snow, never to be seen or spoken to again. Would that I could go without Aymeric on my mind.

Our newest, our…_Tulip_, she is an unknown to me. I care not for what she does or where she goes, but I do know that her only purpose in mine own reckoning was to be companion to Aymeric. And he to she.

Three people in a bond usually means two are friends or lovers- and the third is a hated enemy or an unrequited love that turn'd bitter with regret.

Sometimes it is three whom are meant to be close as brothers in arms. But Aymeric and I passed that threshold when we were first trained, and I saw how beautiful he was becoming. Strong, principled and handsome, I knew he would be sought by many.

And how could I hold any place in his heart ere he met with our third? How could I take the place of one who might yet be more a perfect match than I?

Then she appears and now, now I wonder if I had wasted so much time that couldst have been spent at his side. In his bed. In his heart.

Was he always meant to be mine? I will never know now.

I refuse to change the course of my life simply because she desires freedom from expectation. She may do as she will and we will also do as we will.

Aymeric will find someone more worthy than either of us.

And I. I will be alone as is my right and my place. I will find the biggest and most hateful Wyrm imaginable and throw myself into its maw before I give up what I have fought and sacrificed for.

The creak of my armor in the cold is the only sound in this white wasteland. Even the wind is barely heard, I have managed so expertly to tune it out.

And as I fall into mine slumber, I can hear the echoing of a voice more terrible than any I have ever heard. Calling out to me not by name but by soul.

Caught up in a dream so foul and so gripping, I cannot wrench myself from it.

I know to awaken is salvation but the fire burns in my veins and I do not care if it turns me to ash. Only that it continues to burn.

When I once again open my eyes, the sun peeks from beyond the mountains and I _know_ what I am to do. I _know_ how to protect what is mine and who I am.

And I know that I was never meant for greatness. Rather I was simply willing to take it up and use it in pursuit of my goals and that is all that was ever needed.

Not that I be great, but that I _wield_ the greatness of another.

A weapon against its own kin.

The _eye_ of Nidhogg.


	10. Chapter 10

I heard Aymeric in his office with someone, so I was content to stay away until I heard a voice I kinda recognized.

It pinged something in my brain that I couldn't put my finger on. I had no idea why it was so elusive to me, the voice seemed to slip out of my grasp every time I caught a scrap of it.

So I got closer. Because it was really bugging me.

Close enough that I had to actually…you know, leave my room.

So I walked out of my room and across the hall, in the most silent way possible.

And by that I mean I acted casual and didn't muffle my footsteps at all. People who hear normal footsteps just filter them out, super-hearing or no.

But sneaky footsteps? Oh those'll perk your ears up like nobody's business.

I got to his door and I could still only hear scraps of words.

He must have that damn device on the door. That's why I can't place the voice, it's being scrambled up.

But even with half of it missing and the rest being scrambled so I can't tell who the voice belongs to, I _know_ I know it-

".…_inien…_" I lean closer to the door, putting my ear against it. "_…eye…_"

Something very horrible is occurring to me.

Those two words I just barely caught- sound an awful lot like something terrible I've been dreading. But I heard wrong. Right?

"You must be Tulip!" an upbeat voice speaks from like, right next to me.

I leap back and put my hands over my chest. And then I almost start immediately hyperventilating.

Because it's Haurchefaunt.

"I've heard so much about you," he says charmingly. "What is it you wanted, lurking about the hallway like that?"

"_...idhogg…_"

Okay, that's the _last _straw.

I push open the door and rush inside before Haurchefant can stop me.

He looked kind of shocked but I don't think he reacted in time to even move.

And then I'm in Aymeric's office and he and Edmont are looking at me.

"Tulip? What's wrong?" Aymeric is already walking around his desk with a worried look on his face.

"Where's Estinien?" I ask.

He stops and looks stricken.

"Where's Estinien?" My voice breaks and suddenly I feel warmth sliding down my face and I'm breathing erratically.

Well, I guess I'm having that panic attack after all.

"Tulip," Aymeric says and walks over to grasp my shoulders and pull me into his chest. "Tis alright. Yes, he is…missing, but we are going to find him. The Knights and Dragoons are doing everything we can and we have outside help. Everything is going to be fine."

"I saw her listening outside the door," Haurchefaunt says as he comes in. "I didn't know she was even aware of Estinien, I'm sorry."

"Let us go and leave them," Edmont says and I think I hear him grasp Haurchefaunt and pull him out the door with him.

"The Eye," I say a little brokenly. "He took the eye, didn't he?"

I know he'll be fine, eventually.

But for right now?

He's in a hate-filled torment that…

"Tulip how do you," he pauses and then sighs. "Right. Yes. He took the eye. And you already know he will…"

He pulls back and cups my face as he looks down into my eyes. "Tulip, will he be fine?"

Doing a great job at seeming unaffected by the possibility that he might die, Aymeric. But I don't buy it.

'_You must feel so powerless in this moment. Being unable to go out and search yourself. Not knowing what happens next_.'

"Eventually," I reply. Blinking the tears out of my eyes. "But he's gonna be angry and in pain for a while. Like a LOT of pain."

He tips his head up and releases my face. Sighing in relief and maybe a little sympathy. "Why did you not say something sooner?"

"Aymeric, if you were aware of events that happen in the future, events that lead to other events which _have_ to happen- would you warn people and risk a huge calamity or would you shut up and let it happen?" I ask.

He turns away from me and paces a little in his office. "I do not know."

"Exactly. And besides," I sniffle and wipe my tears away with my very long sleeves. "I had no idea where we were in the timeline till now. Now that I know, I can plan for things…that…you know, don't have an effect on anything but like, a person."

Like say that guy that stabs Aymeric. No way in hell that's happening. Unless I figure out it was some kind of lynchpin to a later event somehow and then I'll still stop it while feeling guilty as fuck about ruining the future…

"You should not feel the need to do anything," he says and turns back to me. Very calm expression on his face. "This is our world, and our future. We should…be allowed to make of it what we will."

"Don't use your work face on me," I say. "I know what it looks like when you're hiding."

He blinks rapidly a little and a small smile curves over his mouth. "I suppose you would."

"Tell me what you're feeling," I say. "Or tell me you don't wanna talk about it. We're…soulmates. I can help you with things, even if I can only listen."

His pacing stops near the window and he stares out of it for a moment before turning his head to look at me.

The expression on his face is…saddened and melancholy, but muted and low-key. Like he feels a profound sadness, but it's being suppressed beneath a layer of numbness.

"I am worried for Estinien," he says simply. And then turns to look out the window again. "I do not see what saying it aloud changes. Speaking of my feelings is easily done, but it changes…nothing but how I feel."

"Your feelings matter," I say and walk over to him.

I don't even feel nervous. This is familiar to me. Every other time we've talked, it's been…unfamiliar territory. But this is what I do. I listen to people and talk to them and we share feelings. Part of studying psychology so you can help your entire family communicate better because you're tired of them being train wrecks.

I'm also a train wreck but at least I admitted to it and am working to better myself.

My family is still convinced mental illness is fake and that there's nothing wrong with them. So I've had worse jobs than telling Aymeric to be open and then you know, actually having it happen. Just within my own family.

"Perhaps, but what good will they do?" he asks. Glancing aside at me. "Being worried will not bring Estinien back. Nor will it ensure he is not consumed by the eye."

"Aymeric…it's okay if your feelings aren't productive," I say. "You can just be sad, and worried and heartbroken sometimes. It's how your emotions effect your behavior that matters. And if you channel your emotions, that's great. Using emotion to do good work is fine. But you don't _always_ have to do that. You can just process it and get through it instead."

He looks back at the window, "I have too much work to do. All of my time is…"

I walk closer and put a hand on his arm.

His head jerks to the side and he stares at me like I'm an alien. I mean. Fair. I _have_ been shying away from him for a while now.

"Aymeric…" I think my voice is cracking again and my eyes are wet. "Do you understand why I asked for us to rethink our arrangement?"

He looks down, at my hand instead of my face. "You…felt trapped."

"That and also…something else," I say.

He glances back up, surprised. "Tell me."

"I don't want just you _or _Estinien," I say. "I want the two of you together if I'm going to be involved at all."

His lips part and his eyes narrow like he's shocked and also trying to analyze the situation at the same time. "…why?"

"Because you love him," I say. "And I care about both of you. I know you intimately in a way that might be uncomfortable for both of you to think about. If you're ever going to be happy, you can't only have me. That's…that's not enough."

He's staring determinedly out the window while his facial expressions change between something like betrayal and sadness to grim understanding. "Tulip…we can't…"

"We can," I say. "I understand that your position is important to you. Ishgard is important to you. And that's why you've never revealed anything about yourselves. To protect yourselves. But you two together would be a LOT safer…than me with either of you," I say.

He turns to face me and has such a heartbroken look on his face. "Estinien doesn't want that."

"Estinien doesn't want whatever seems the most dangerous to _you_," I say. "The only reason he stays away is probably because he feels like if you're together…people might look down on you. For being with someone… 'beneath' you." I use air quotes and roll my eyes at the same time.

God I hate Ishgardian politics.

"But he's going to be the Azure Dragoon!" I say. "That's a prominent thing, even more prominent than just being a regular Dragoon." I gesture helplessly. "His place in society and his influence and reputation won't be a threat to you anymore, right?"

He shakes his head, "we've talked about this. He…he does not wish to be…trapped. Either."

"You mean he doesn't like the idea of being involved in your job," I say. "Like the lord of the manor would have to be."

He tilts his head and sort of nods, like 'yeah just about'.

"So I'll be lady of the manor if he needs me to be. He can come and go as he pleases. I don't _care_ if I'm just your friend or your wife, as long as you two can be happy together. In public or otherwise. But if you _can't_, then I will spend the rest of my life blaming both of us for making him miserable and ourselves as a result. I can't live like that, Aymeric."

He bites his lip and his jaw works. Tongue flickering out to run over his bottom lip. "I understand your feelings, Tulip…I simply do not think it will matter to Estinien. He has made his choice and his choice…is not me."


	11. Aymeric POV

Tulip was happy to be out in the marketplace at first. But when I asked her if she wanted the silken handkerchief in her hand, she dropped it and immediately withdrew into herself.

When I told her we were here to find her new clothes to wear, she withdrew even further.

I suppose I should have specified when we left the house that we were going shopping _for her_, but I thought it was implied until that moment.

Shortly after, when I saw we were getting nowhere- I entreated her to simply look and we would save buying for another day if that is what she truly desired. Getting out of the house would be good for her regardless, and she could take her time if she did not quite know what to get.

Her fingertips drifted across more handkerchiefs and scarves of varying hues. All embroidered or painted with gold. Dark blues, greens and reds.

Then we came upon a dress shop and her nose wrinkled even as her eyes sparkled at the dresses on their mannequins. She touched one or two, seeming to like the necklines and the trailing cloaks, but not much else about them.

Then the suits made her smile and her eyes scrunched at the edges in an unhappy way- and I think privately that Tulip has some of the strangest and most endearing facial expressions I have ever seen.

"What would you like to see?" I ask. "You seemed unhappy with the dresses and the suits."

She shrugs and sighs. "They just aren't…in my style."

"Oh?" I say. "There are a wide range of styles on display. What was missing?"

"Something dark and ominous," she says. "Maybe all black with splashes of bright color. Maybe all dark colors accented with gold…something that looks like a vampire would wear it."

My eyebrows raise and I make a considering noise. "Ah…well, we are in entirely the wrong market for that." And then I place my free hand over the one she has clasped in the crook of my arm and lead her down and away from the open marketplace. "I know just where to find your very…specific taste in clothing."

Tulip is shy and skittish around me, but once the focus is off of me- she blossoms. Smiling at passers-by, waving to children looking over their mothers' shoulders. Gazing adoringly up at the beautiful Ishgardian architecture.

Truly she has never seemed so beautiful and happy.

I just wonder why I am such…an imposition to that happiness…

"Don't know what he was thinking," a few young ladies from some middling noble houses walk past us. The reason I take notice, is that Tulip does.

She stops me in the street and turns her head to follow them, brows furrowed.

I almost ask what is wrong.

"Like we would want to spend time with _anyone_ in _that_ family," one of their voices say as they fade with distance.

Tulip turns then and drags me along with her as she walks down the street.

Thinking to simply allow her the lead, I start to walk faster to facilitate her, but she pulls me to a halt as soon as we reach an open courtyard.

Tis an abrupt movement, but when I see the source of her urgency, I feel a curl of uncomfortable anger in my throat.

Emmanellain De Fortemps sits in front of a fountain, looking a mite downcast. Fiddling with a flower- possibly from the nearby bouquet that looks…trod upon.

"Ohhhh a bitch is gonna got," Tulip mutters and turns on her heel. Then she stops and turns back to me. "Fuck."

Her new path takes her directly toward Emmanellain and my heart aches when I see her stop to pick up the ruined bouquet.

Following in her path, slowly and out of his vantage- I drift along and observe.

She walks over and sits directly next to him. Surprising him into jolting and looking up.

"You know you can use flowers as fertilizer?" she says. "Or potpourri. Watercolor paints can also be made with flowers- not to mention the perfumes you could make from the more fragrant types."

He blinks rapidly and attempts to keep up with her rapid speech. "…oh?"

"See, it's not what you have or the circumstances that lead to what you have, it's what you do with what you have that matters," she says.

He sighs forlornly, "well then that is an easy answer, as I have nothing."

She, surprisingly, smacks him upside the head. Gently, but it shocks him.

"Yow!" he flinches and moves away, rubbing his head. "What was that for?"

"You're rich and come from a noble family, you dipshit, you've got everything," she replies. "Now how do you _use_ that to bring about a desired result? Hm?"

He groans and hangs his head, hands running through his hair despondently. "You are asking me? I am not even the eldest man in my family. I have not been trained for such things as my elder brother has been."

"And yet your other elder brother is doin' just fine," she says. "With a fraction of what you have."

Emmanellain tenses at the mention of Haurchefaunt. I do not blame him, he was just likely ridiculed for his existence in the family.

"Is he?" Emmanellain asks. "He's not at his rightful place in the family. Can't be. Ever. How is that better than what I have now? As piddling as it is." He mutters the last bit to himself but Tulip still hears and reaches out to pinch one of his ears.

I flinch in sympathy as he makes a pained noise.

She pulls him closer by said ear and speaks slowly. Softly. "Haurchefaunt Greystone is _happy_ and content with his life. That's what he has, that you don't. And the reason for that is that Haurchefaunt doesn't _expect more_ than he can feasibly get. He does what he does for his own satisfaction and the protection of others because that makes him _happy_. Get it?"

Emmanellain sighs unhappily and tugs his ear away from her hand as she releases him. "I suppose…"

"Nope," she replies and places the bouquet in his arms. "You don't see it. But you will." She musses his hair and he pulls away with a childish pout on his face. "Next time someone shit talks your family…" she smiles at him and her eyes become flat with a threat. "…you give me their names."

"Why?" he asks. "What do you want?"

"Oh you're mine now," she says with an ebullient grin. "I've _adopted_ you. You don't like it, you can always tell daddy you're refusing a fellowship with the Lady De Borel."

My breath catches in my throat and my chest pains me.

She has full rights to call herself a lady of my house. Whether we are partnered or not, she is my soulmate. But it hurts so…sweetly…to hear her claim my name as her own.

Emmanellain realizes who he is speaking to and with wide eyes, stands and bows to her. "Lady Tulip! My father…told me of you. Though I must admit, his description was… a bit off."

"Little mouse who cries at the drop of a hat, I'm guessing," she mutters to herself as she stands with him. "Yeah I'm…still finding my feet. But one thing I do know is that you're…not cutthroat." Her lips purse and then return to normal as her eyes drift somewhere else for a moment. "And you shouldn't have to be. But there are more options for you available than 'terrible person who is on top in society' and 'laughingstock who has no comebacks for other people's mockery'."

He fiddles with the flowers as he thinks that over, eyes flickering up at her every few moments. "And those options are?"

She smiles more brightly now. "'Be everybody's best friend' or 'be so well-respected that it's hard to attack you'. See, you can do both, or either. But one way or another, you can find a way through this that is tailored to your personality and skillsets."

He shrinks away and speaks with purpose then. "At the risk of another ear-pulling, I must tell you I have none."

Shrugging, she curls her hands before her. "I guess that's kinda why I wanna take you under my wing. You know, so you can _get some_."

I should likely be attempting to intervene. Should have when this first began. But everything about the way Tulip is behaving is protective and nurturing, beneath all the bluster.

She wants to help Emmanellain and this behavior is the only way she believes she can. I will not intervene unless it is necessary.

Emmanellain is a difficult personality to handle. Even _I_ find it somewhat trying on occasion.

I am surprised when he drops his head and offers her a shy grin. "What would you teach me?"

"First of all, how to pick your potential dates better," she replies.


	12. Chapter 12

I had to get out of the manor.

It isn't that I don't love living with Aymeric, I do.

He's Aymeric. So. Yeah.

It's just that…the Warrior of Light has started showing up. Haurchefaunt told Aymeric about him and now Aymeric talks about little else.

And it makes me. Kinda jealous? Not the kind of weird feeling I get around Estinien and Aymeric when they're together, but…

A feeling like he's intruding on our space or something. It's ridiculous. I shouldn't feel that way and I don't want to snap at Aymeric or something when he's just enthusiastic and hero worship-y.

I mean, he's probably got the hots for the warrior of light like most people do in this universe but that doesn't mean I should get upset about it. I mean, I'm the one who refused his like…tentative proposal thing, kind of.

Why did I do that again?

Oh right! Estinien. In love. Aymeric so in love it hurts to look at him sometimes when he's with him.

So if the warrior gets in the way of that…what do I do? I'll have done all this for nothing!

Or not nothing. I guess if Aymeric falls in love with the warrior, I'd be able to stick with Estinien. He doesn't seem to be super fond of me, but I could help him out sometimes. I could learn healing, or make and send him meals- learn to be a culinarian and stuff.

And the rest of the time, just pine away for Aymeric and feel crappy about how I could've had it all. Or at least _half_ of it all.

Uggghhhh.

I had to get away for an afternoon before my mood swings took over and I started crying all over the place.

"And we are baking, because?" Emmanellain has been roped into doing a LOT of baking with me.

"Because you don't know how and if you want women to like you, you're gonna need to at least have a skill of some kind that's admirable. Which means we've gotta find you both a combat style and a hobby that someone would admire you for. And since I can't do the combat thing with you, I'm doing the hobby thing," I say. "And we're starting with baking because I am having a very bad day and it's a comfort to me, alright?"

"Alright, alright," he says and hands me a measured portion of flour. "What are we making, anyhow? I've forgotten the name of it."

"Where I'm from, it's called a Danish. You guys probably have a different name for it," I say and sprinkle the flour into the mixture. "We make some gooey pastries, some delicious jelly to smear into the cream cheese and then swirl it around and pipe it into the pastry."

"That sounds _divine_," he says excitedly.

"It will be if we can do it right," I say. "Now, is the cream cheese mixture done?"

"Oh!" he turns away and picks up the bowl, showing it to me. "I believe so?"

"Get a piping bag," I say. "Put it in there and seal it shut."

"Right away!" he salutes and rushes off to find the equipment we need.

They probably use some kind of cheesecloth or something for piping bags here.

Aymeric seemed to approve when I asked to hang out with Emmanellain, so I won't have to worry about him being…I dunno, worried or upset about me being somewhere else?

He took me shopping and I derailed for Emmanellain but afterwards he joined us on our errands and I got to show him different ways to dress and do his hair that I thought might be fashionable- judging by the other nobles and of course what I myself thought was unique and sharp-looking.

Aymeric, of course, ended up buying me a whole wardrobe.

I was tricked.

He told me we were just there to look that day, and then bought me a bunch of stuff on his own the next. He wasn't lying but he was also being sneaky.

That's just like him, really. Especially where it concerns doing something nice for someone.

Emmanellain didn't see the appeal in my witchy/goth wardrobe, but I've never dressed to impress anyone else and I told him so. Tended to get me more attention than anyone else who was trying too hard. And I didn't care about that, but he might. So.

He's wearing a newly styled outfit today. Just around the house. Something he chose for himself.

It's brightly colored, flared at the hips and shoulders- the collar framed his throat and his hair is up in a sort of spiky ponytail with a beaded hairband holding his bangs up- except for a slight fringe, of course.

He actually kind of looks amazing? It's weird. I'm used to him in ill-fitting and homogenized outfits that look like his brother in miniature. He and Artoirel are just too similar looking.

Funny thing about Artoirel, he came down this morning, saw Emmanellain in his new outfit and hairstyle and just gave me a look that I'm not sure was either approving or disapproving. Dunno what his deal is.

He seemed so much warmer and more talkative in-game. But that was with the _warrior of light_-

"You are giving that dough what-for, eh?" a voice interrupts my internal tirade.

"Lord Edmont!" I step back and bow a little. I greeted him earlier, but I don't know the time limit on those things. "I'm sorry, Emmanellain just ran off to find me a piping bag."

He chuckles and waves off the bow. "No need for such ceremony when you are in my home as my guest, my dear."

I flush a little at the kind way he looks at me. I've never really trusted _anyone_ in my life. Aymeric and Estinien, you can trust. Haurchefaunt and his entire family, you can trust. And it's…new. Different.

It puts me a little off-balance, sometimes.

"Thanks," I say a little shortly and go back to kneading the dough. A bit more gently this time. "I uh…I just needed to work out some feelings and get out of the house…which I guess might seem weird to you as I'm just in _another_ house, but-"

"Is the Lord De Borel being a bother?" Edmont asks with a twinkle in his eye. "Mayhap you would like me to have words with him?"

"Nope!" I say and turn, laughing nervously. "No, no, that's…yeah, I'm good. He's…the best, you know. But sometimes you need space, even from…the best people."

"Ah, I see," he says. Eyes crinkling at the corners. "So he _is_ being a bother. Only he does not know it, does he?"

I sigh deeply. "I'm just…being ridiculous," I say.

He wordlessly sits at the table on the other side of the counters and nods at me to continue.

"It's…not like I can't handle the idea of my soulmate with someone else," I say. "Okay? I'm not a jealous person, usually. But the more he talks about the Warrior of Light, the more…" I readjust. "The _less_ I feel."

"The Warrior of Light?" Edmont asks with some surprise. "I daresay my son has the same problem. Speaks of him incessantly when he is home, and writes of him when he is not. Why does it bother you so?"

"I just can't keep up," I say and stare dejectedly at the dough. "I'm not as amazing as Aymeric is, I already knew that. But I'm also not as amazing as Estinien, the warrior of light or any of their companions…or…anyone, really. I can't do anything."

And god. Estinien, where are you? I know where you are, but I don't know the exact location in relation to me. I can't just tell Aymeric where he is, either, because the Warrior of Light helps him get control of the eye somehow.

"I'm sure that isn't true," he says. "You seem to be a fine cook, for one."

I snort in self-derision. "And if someone threatens the people I care about, what. I throw a pie at them?"

I don't think Nidhogg can be vanquished with apple pie.

He hums. "There are ways to protect and care for your family and friends that do not include martial disciplines. Though if you are so dead set upon it, you can be trained."

Crossing my arms over my chest and squeezing, I shake my head. "No. I can't. It's complicated but Soulstones…wouldn't work for me. At least I don't think so. There's no reason they should."

"Are you Garlean?" he asks with some curiosity.

I blink. And then bust out laughing. "Oh my god! How simple all my problems would be if I were _Garlean_!"

Edmont seems confused by my mirth but he chuckles with me. "I suppose then, you'll be doing things the old fashioned way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still not totally stocked up on backlog for the coming weeks but I managed to get this week's update finished!
> 
> Special thanks to AmberJae who is almost single-handedly fueling my creativity right now with their wonderful, long and descriptive comments!
> 
> Also to Shizzy1981, Sugah_Cookeh, Johskathewise and SiberianSpring, too!

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember to leave a review!
> 
> Reviews remind me that my stories exist and also give me motivation to finish them. You might think that's being dramatic, but eh...I've got depression brain so bad I can barely remember yesterday.
> 
> Even if your review is just filled with emojis, of course it'll be appreciated.
> 
> And I LOVE long reviews, no matter how long-- so don't feel like you're bugging me, I promise you aren't.
> 
> Critique is also allowed but please keep it to technical problems like grammar and spelling and stuff like that-- or correcting my canon names usage because sometimes I get names mixed up-- cause I've gotten people giving me concrit on things that are just personal opinions and that is not really that helpful.
> 
> You can of course tell me if you think a part is dragging on or if you'd take out an action sequence or something because that scene felt out of place. I love to hear things like that.
> 
> But if it's not objective critique, it's not very helpful.
> 
> EX:  
"I don't like Lucia and therefore hate that you've included her in your story" is not objective critique or even personal critique on a story element, it's just expecting me to cater to your personal tastes and I can't do that for everyone.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
